


Rendezvous

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Injury, Whumptober 2019, but it turned cute whoops, prompt: stab wound, stab wounds, this was supposed to be angst I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: “Steph, is that—”“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s just a light stab.”“Alight stab?”





	Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> Day 8: Stab Wound

Tim is roused abruptly by the creaky slide of his window opening. He has no idea what time it is, nor why someone would pick a room on the second floor to break into, but his bat training kicks in even before he’s fully awake. Tim doesn’t give any indication as he slowly slips out the birdarang he keeps under his pillow.   
  
The intruder is climbing over the window ledge now, and Tim’s hand tightens around the metal when he hears the thump of a body falling to the floor. He prepares to strike swiftly while they’re already down, giving them no time to react.   
  
Then he hears a familiar voice hiss, “Jesus _ fuck—” _ and Tim’s eyes shoot open.   
  
He lets the birdarang fall to the floor and sits up, his eyes taking time to adjust in the dark. “Steph?”   
  
Stephanie pushes herself back to her feet, muttering curses to herself as she stands. She’s in full Spoiler gear and stands slightly hunched over, favoring her left side. Her hood is pulled down, and her blonde hair frizzes in every direction.   
  
“Howdy, boy wonder,” she says, still breathless from the climb. “Fancy meeting you here.”   
  
Tim pushes aside his blanket and gets out of bed, uncaring of the fact that his bedhead must be terrible and that his Superboy t-shirt/boxers combo is far from the classiest of outfits. He switches on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. “What are you doing here?”   
  
Steph smiles, but there’s tension behind her expression. “Can’t a girl visit her boyfriend for some shenanigans without needing a reason?”   
  
“Yes, but I don’t think that’s a thing you and I do.” At least, not at Tim’s house. Robin breaking into the Brown household for midnight makeout sessions is more common than Bruce is allowed to know, but Tim can count on one hand the number of times Stephanie has been inside Drake Manor.   
  
Steph shrugs. “We’ll make it a new tradition.” Then she pushes her cape off her shoulders and lets it fall to the ground, and Tim’s eyes widen.   
  
“Steph, is that—”   
  
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. It’s just a light stab.”   
  
“A _ light stab?” _   
  
“Yep.” She walks past Tim and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, wincing a little. Now that the light is on, Tim can see the bruises on her face and the dried blood spotting her uniform. Must have been one hell of a fight, and Tim almost wishes he’d been there to help out.   
  
“Steph, there is a knife sticking out of your back.”   
  
“Yeah. Lightly.” She’s working on tugging her gloves off with her teeth.   
  
Tim stands there, fishing for a rational thought, and Steph waits patiently while his sleep-deprived brain catches up to speed. “Um. Okay, just—okay.” His hands flounder for a moment before he turns and goes to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. Steph giggles when he smacks face-first into the door frame on the first try.   
  
As Tim grabs the first-aid kit he keeps under the sink, he catches sight of his own reflection in the mirror and makes a face. He looks like a hot mess, minus the hot. Thank god this is a work-related visit and not a romantic rendezvous, because Tim is seriously lacking in that area right now.   
  
He grabs a couple of towels and a bottle of painkillers as an afterthought. When he comes back to the room, Stephanie is already stripped down to the first layers of her uniform. She’s snatched one of Tim’s many bottles of hand sanitizer and is cleaning the blood off her hands with it, which, no. He hands her one of the towels.   
  
In the dim light, Tim can see that she bled her suit’s purple fabric black. He climbs onto the bed and takes a seat behind Steph, legs crisscrossed. He opens the pill bottle and pours out a few capsules. “Must have been a pretty brutal fight for this kind of slash. Why didn’t you call for backup?”   
  
Steph takes the pills and swallows them down with her trademark _ blegh _ face, tongue out and all. “Because I didn’t need any help.”   
  
“And yet, here you are, coming to me for help.” He pushes her hair to the side and out of the way.   
  
“I’m only here because I can’t see the wound and I needed someone to pull the knife out for me.”   
  
Tim winces when he gets a better look at the injury. The knife itself is small, but it’s buried halfway in her skin. He can imagine it hurts like hell. “What a great date idea. Pulling weapons out of each other’s bodies.”   
  
Steph turns her head and gives him a strange look. “That shouldn’t sound as dirty as it does.”   
  
Tim rolls his eyes and taps her cheek until she tilts her head to the other side, giving him better visibility. He carefully grips the knife handle. “Try not to scream, please. I have neighbors.”   
  
Steph snorts. “Now that was _ definitely _ dirty.”   
  
“Don’t make me kick you out of here and leave you to handle this yourself,” he warns.   
  
Steph waves her hand. “Alright, alright. Un-knife me, Doctor Drake.”   
  
Tim braces one hand on her other shoulder and grips the knife tighter. “Ready?” Steph presses the towel over her mouth and nods, bracing herself. Tim yanks out the knife in one quick motion, and Stephanie muffles a shriek.   
  
Blood immediately rushes out of the wound, and Tim presses a towel against it to protect his bedspread. Steph lets out a stream of colorful curses, waiting for the pain to subside. Tim opens the first-aid kit and takes out several gauze pads, a needle, and thread.   
  
“Not to question your methods,” he says, “but you probably should have had Alfred handle this. Though I will say that it’s fun getting to practice my first-aid skills.” He pinches the zipper of Steph’s uniform before pausing. “Okay?” She nods, and he pulls it down to the small of her back before pushing the fabric off her shoulders.   
  
The wound is just below her left shoulder blade, straight and fairly simple to stitch, thankfully. Tim is mediocre at stitchwork at best, so scarring is going to be unavoidable. Alfred could do a far better job.   
  
Steph tries to relax, leaning forward a little. “Your place was closer.”   
  
“Wayne Manor is literally next door.” Tim dabs at the blood around the wound.   
  
Steph hisses through her teeth at the sting from the antiseptic. “Fine, so I wanted an excuse to see you. Satisfied?”   
  
Tim’s hand stutters for only a second. He threads the needle and presses his thumb against one side of the gash as he pulls the first stitch through. “That’s sweet.”   
  
The next few minutes pass by in silence as Tim concentrates. He notices Steph raising her head to look around the room curiously. She hums, like a critic appraising a piece of art. “What?” Tim asks.   
  
Her gaze lingers on the wall of polaroids Tim took once upon a time. “I’ve just never been in your room before.”   
  
Tim’s brows furrow. Surely that can’t be true. Until, after he thinks about it, Tim realizes she’s right. Steph has never ventured further into his house than the foyer when they meet up for dates.   
  
“Is that why you came here? To see where the mysterious Tim Drake lives when he’s not out fighting crime?”   
  
Steph shrugs with her free shoulder. “Maybe. It’s fun to be the dark intruder for once. I’m like the badass prince breaking into the tower, which makes you the beautiful Rapunzel.” She boops the tip of his nose.   
  
“All my dreams are coming true,” Tim drones. “Now please hold still. I don’t want to screw this up.”   
  
“Say no more,” Steph says, saluting. Then: “You know, it was hard finding which room was yours. I tried peeking through the windows, but every room was, like, super dark.”   
  
“Dark? Really? I would have thought an empty house would be filled with strobe lights and keg parties in the middle of the night on a Tuesday.”   
  
“Empty? Where’s your dad?”   
  
“He and Dana are in Mexico for a few days, I think.” Or did they go to Mexico last week? It’s hard to keep track of it all.   
  
He doesn’t need to see Steph’s face to know she’s not pleased by the answer. Though she should have figured this out by now, seeing as the fact that Tim spends his nights swinging around Gotham should imply a fair amount of parental neglect.   
  
“Why don’t you stay with Bruce?” she asks.   
  
Tim shrugs. “Not like I’m his kid. It’s not his job to worry about me when we’re not in costume.” Steph squeaks the next time the needle pokes through her skin, making Tim press his lips together apologetically. “Sorry.”   
  
She waves a hand, breathing deeply through the pain. “It’s fine.” She looks around the room again. “So they just...leave you here? All by yourself to wallow like a sad old man?”   
  
“I don’t wallow.”   
  
“You’ve got a topless girl in your bed, and we’re talking about your parents’ assholery. I’d call that wallowing.”   
  
“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” It comes out more defensive than Tim intends it to be.   
  
“Well, sure,” Steph says, “but it’s gotta be lonely, right? Big, empty house and all?”   
  
Tim considers it. “Dunno. I’m pretty used to it, so I doubt I’m a reliable judge.”   
  
“In that case, maybe I should break into your house more often. Keep you company.”   
  
“I wouldn’t say no to that.” Tim snips the end of the thread and tucks the needle back into the kit before taking out a roll of gauze. He applies a cotton pad to the wound, then Steph holds her hair out of the way as he wraps the bandages around her chest to secure it in place.   
  
When he finishes, Steph stands up and goes to Tim’s dresser, not bothering to pull up the torn and bloodied top portion of her suit. She rifles through one of the drawers and takes out a shirt before turning back to Tim. “Mind if I borrow this?”   
  
Tim nods, packing up the medical supplies. “Want me to drive you home?”   
  
“Nope. I’m staying here tonight.”   
  
Tim jolts. “Really?”   
  
“I’m not letting my boyfriend spend the night in an empty house. That’s terrible.” She shucks off the rest of her gear, and Tim quickly averts his eyes.   
  
“But...won’t your mom notice you’re gone?”   
  
“She picked up a late shift at the hospital,” Steph explains. “All the more reason for me to stay.” The rustle of fabric stops. “You can look now.” There’s an amused tone in her voice.   
  
She’s wearing one of the many shirts Tim stole from Dick—all of which comprise of fifty percent of his wardrobe—that’s so big it reaches down almost to her knees. Which is exactly how it looks on Tim whenever he wears it. She leaves her Spoiler suit on the floor and crawls back onto the bed, collapsing on her side and burying her face in one of Tim’s pillows.   
  
Tim hasn’t moved from his seat at the foot of the mattress. “Uh...I’ll take the guest bedroom, if you want.”   
  
Steph laughs. “Tim. I promise the almighty gentleman gods won’t strike you down for sleeping in the same bed as a fully-clothed female.”   
  
Tim must take too long mulling it over in his head, because Steph rolls her eyes and takes him by the arm, pulling him down beside her. He doesn’t forget the first-aid supplies that still need to be put away, but the moment his head makes contact with the pillow Tim’s exhaustion catches up with him, and he supposes that leaving the medical equipment on the floor for one night won’t hurt anyone.   
  
He and Steph lie facing each other, noses an inch apart. Her blue eyes are tired but twinkling, and Tim finds himself dazed just by looking at them. “Hi,” he says, cheeks dusted with pink.   
  
Steph laughs and kisses one of them. “You’re cute when you’re blushy.”   
  
“Am not.”   
  
Steph hums and yawns, nuzzling her face into the pillow. “Your rich kid bed is comfortable. I should get stabbed more often.”   
  
“Please don’t.”   
  
“You’re not the boss of me.” Her eyes flutter closed, and her lips are curled dreamily at the edges. “Y’know what would be great? We should make pancakes in the morning.”   
  
“Mm-hm.” Tim struggles to keep his eyes open, but it’s a losing battle, and Steph seems to sense as much.   
  
“Sweet dreams, boy wonder,” she whispers.   
  
Tim’s already asleep before he can reply.   


**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
